when the sun comes out
by fallendrastic
Summary: Running away is the only justification she knows. Sam/Freddie.


**a/n**: so, it's been this long since I last wrote for these two. my life is just really hectic right now, and I forgot that this is the one place where you get to escape everything about that and just be free. these two are absolutely lovely, and I just love angsting them up. so this is depressing, and sad, and angst-filled, but hey, isn't that the whole point of ff? :) so hopefully you'll enjoy & review. because remember—days to write, seconds to review. the words in italics in the beginning & end are part of a poem I'm scratching together.

.

_in everything that you do,  
the stars shine for you._

"How long are we going to keep this up?" he asks, playing with her blonde curls as she lays on his lap. "All this pretending." It's dusk, but her eyes are still brightly blue, and her cerulean gaze is locked at his coffee brown one.

"As long as I want," she says, grabbing his collar and pulling him closer to her lips for a kiss. He pulls away.

"What are we?" asks Freddie. He looks at her. "What are we doing?"

Sam has always been good at keeping secrets, so she says, "Everything about this is simple. No strings attached."

He kisses her curls.

.

Sam runs away in the middle of the night; in the midst of hurried phone calls and messy short notes. As she slams the door, his words haunt her (_I love you, I love you, I love you_).

It's not like she doesn't understand what it means to love; she understands it fully. That's why she's running away. Her whole life, disappointment and goodbyes were all she knew. And now that it has all changed, she doesn't know who she is anymore. All she really knew was brokenness. And now that it's being taken away from her, she's scared, and the fear increases and increases until she loses herself.

And then she runs, like she always does.

He calls and calls and it breaks her heart every time he does. She takes his heart with her wherever she goes, she always has, and it was never a problem because he gave it to her and followed her wherever she went. Now she's left him and she doesn't know what to do with it - it's broken, just like hers.

"This is sick," he tells her, when she finally answers a call. "Everything you do to me is sick, Sam. _Everything_. The way you make me love you and the way you leave, abruptly, without warning, expecting me to be _okay_."

"Freddie—" she tries, but her voice is tired, exasperated, because she knows all of this already. She feels the choke in his voice and realizes he's crying.

"Everything," he continues. "But screw that, Sam. I need you to be here, okay? I need you. I miss you. I don't even know why you left—"

_You told me you love me_, she thinks, but she doesn't say it. Instead, she bites the insides of her mouth and begins crying.

"You smashed the wine glass on the wall and—" his voice cracks. "I don't know what else to say. I just need you back." A silence occurs, she clutches her t-shirt and looks out at the sunset, wondering if he's looking at a similar sky, too.

Suddenly, he says, "I love you, Sam. I love you."

_You shouldn't,_ she almost blurts. But she doesn't. Instead, she says, "I know."

.

Sam has always been drawn to sadness, like a moth to a flame. And she gets burned every time.

She doesn't know where the appeal in brokenness lies, but misery has always been a companion. From the time when her mother started drinking and from the day she was left standing alone, dateless, in the middle of her graduation dance floor. It has always been there, always been ready for her.

All of his messages ring through her ears and sometimes she wishes she actually deserved it. But she doesn't: not for one second.

.

"How do you feel when I kiss you?" she remembers him asking her, one day, a couple of weeks before graduation. She remembers her smiling, gleefully, her hands tangling on top of his.

"I don't know," she says, half-amused, but he kisses the top of her forehead and she leans against his chest, keeping silent. Freddie runs his hands through Sam's curls and she doesn't tell him that she feels worthy when he kisses her-feels light ignite her bones and sees a world of color and belief float through her when he does.

Instead, she kisses him and figures that's the perfect explanation.

.

It's raining again when she's holed up in her room wearing one of his too-big sweatshirts and crossing her legs over the other, reading letter after letter before throwing them in the too big fireplace.

She hasn't seen him in a while, a year has come and gone without looking into his brown eyes and messing his carefully combed hair. She hasn't snatched a report out of his hands and hasn't kissed his cheek after she did so.

Freddie's eyes have lost their innocence-they're cold and unwelcoming when they settle on her. Sam suddenly feels waves of guilt washing over her as she stares back. He stands, unmoving, on her doorstep.

"Why?" he says. She doesn't know how to respond. He shakes his head. "Why did you leave?"

"I don't know," she says, softly, almost inaudibly. She repeats it, louder this time, and his eyes blaze. "Why did you come?"

"Because I don't know how to stay away."

.

"Carly misses you," says Freddie, almost nonchalantly. Sam doesn't say anything-she's never been one for small talk. She just grabs a wine glass and a bottle and drinks, leaning against her front door. He doesn't come inside, but instead just stands there, outside of her apartment, in the narrow hallway, and she just stares.

"I miss her too," she responds, managing to keep her voice even and blank. Pretending has always been a skill of hers.

"Did you miss me?" he asks, softly, as he looks at her.

"How long are you staying in Chicago?" she asks, pretending to miss his comment. He stares at her and blinks. She blinks owlishly, playing the innocent victim, and for a split second he looks like he believes her. But only for a second—he knows her too well.

"The day after tomorrow," he says finally and she nods, feeling her heart twist with disappointment. "I'm thinking of visiting Carly when I get back."

"Yeah?" she asks. She wonders how long they can keep this up: pretending like they're not broken, like there's nothing wrong with this situation.

"Yeah," he says, and then silence. There's nothing left to say.

He leaves. She doesn't say goodbye.

.

He comes again the next day.

It's early in the morning, the sun hasn't come out yet, and her eyes are puffy because she was sobbing in her bedroom last night, in spite of every instinct in her body that screamed 'stop'.

When she sees him, all of her rage melts away. Her voice gets caught up in her throat and her icy blue eyes widen.

"I love you," he blurts out. She feels her heart ache.

"Why?" she asks him, the word leaving her lips faster than she expected. He looks bemused as he stares, eyes wide open. Her eyes close slowly. "Why?" she asks again, suddenly feeling rage swell up in her bones and veins. "Why?"

"Why not?" he responds. He kisses her and this time, she lets him in.

.

"Don't stay," she says, leaning against him on the couch.

"Why?" he asks her. He's playing with her curls again, once more, and she looks at him with an almost-smile.

"Because," she says, almost wryly, "_I'm the poison running through your veins_."

He laughs. "You read my new book."

In return, she smiles.

.

It's midnight, the clock has struck, and they're still beside the couch.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he reminds her. She nods aimlessly and he sighs. "Seriously, do you want me to stay?" She doesn't answer. "Because I will."

She shakes her head, kissing his cheek aimlessly. "Don't stay, Benson. Don't." He looks at her, eyes unreadable, and listens to the sound of the clock ticking.

"If I go, I'm never coming back," he says. She nods motionlessly, crossing their legs over each other and linking their fingers.

"Well, then I guess it was nice while it lasted."

.

He does exactly what he said he would do: he leaves, in the middle of the night, no less.

It's while she's sleeping, and when she wakes up, he's not there. She finally knows how it feels like to be on the opposite side of her actions.

He does leave her a note, it says, _I still love you_.

Sam leaves the house and goes to the beach. There, she crumples the note, lights it on fire, and then throws it away into the sea.

As she watches it deteriorate, she whispers, "I love you, too."

.

_i've never been good,  
good enough for you,  
no matter how hard i pretend it isn't true._


End file.
